


Trick, Treat, and Sweet

by AnnaofAza



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Overprotective Harry Hart, Pining, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: “You can’t take my candy!” she protests, drawing several eyes towards them.“I’m not taking your candy,” Harry says, even though he technically just did.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBarOfGold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBarOfGold/gifts).



> From the autumn fic meme: haunted house. 
> 
> (And this is my 100th fic posted on A03! I can't believe I've hit that milestone!)

Harry’s glad that Halloween never came to Stanhope Mews.

Children are not at all his forte, and as a man who wants nothing more than to curl on the couch with a thick book and a glass filled to the brim with whiskey after a mission, Harry thanks whoever’s out there that he doesn’t have to get up from his comfortable perch and pass candy into grubby, sticky hands. In his younger years, he liked dressing up in various costumes, but after over twenty years as a spy, disguises have lost some sort of appeal for him.

Which is why he surprised himself by accepting Eggsy’s invitation to trick-or-treat with Daisy, costume included. Harry endures Merlin’s knowing look when asking him for the night off, then another round of smirks from Roxy and Percival, who were spending their Halloween in Germany to foil a dirty bomb plan.

Eggsy eagerly chatters about Daisy’s costume, assuring him that he’d love it, and brings up stopping by Ryan’s flat, where he’s having a mini haunted house. He and his brothers always do it during Halloween, and Ryan had promised there would be a section for the little kids, complete with peeled grapes for eyeballs and mushy spaghetti for brains. Clearly, they’re not aiming for accuracy, but Harry suspects accuracy would not be well-received.

So, on Halloween night, Harry knocks on Eggsy’s flat, which he shares with his mother and sister, then waits, armed with two marshmallow chocolate bars and a torch.

“I got it!” he hears Eggsy shout, then the door opens. “Harry, you look spiffing. What do you think of me?”

“Oh,” Harry says, as Eggsy poses, hand on the gun holster draped around his waist. He tries not to admire the way the vest is open to expose Eggsy’s partially-buttoned shirt that reveals his bare chest or how the tightly-fitted jeans cling to Eggsy’s muscled thighs. “Han Solo?”

“Yup,” Eggsy says proudly, “and this—“ he pulls the door open wider, “is BB-8!”

Harry stares at Daisy, with a gray cap with looks like a mechanical eye on her head and stuffed inside in a spherical, plush contraption with orange and black designs. “…What?” he asks, wracking his brain for details he’d somehow missed in the original trilogy and bloody awful prequels.

“From the new film,” Eggsy replies, looking disappointed. “Different cast? _The Force Awakens_?”

Harry vaguely remembers some of the trailers that have popped up here and there. “Ah, of course,” he says, mentally wincing. “Both of you look good.” He then thrusts the candy forward. “For you two.”

Eggsy beams, taking the chocolate, then steps backwards to let Harry in. “Thanks, bruv. Just let me get our bags, and we can head on out.”

Michelle’s waiting for them, arms crossed over her chest, and belatedly, Harry wonders if he should have also given Michelle something, but he has a feeling that her dislike of him won’t suddenly dissipate with a candy bar. She studies Harry with a look he hasn’t seen since being held captive in an underground prison ten years ago, eyeing him up and down. “And who are you supposed to be?” she asks.

Harry looks down at what he’s wearing, slightly ashamed, but Eggsy, thankfully, cuts in. “James Bond, Mum,” he says, patting Harry on the arm.

“And how’s _this_ —” she gestures to his tuxedo. “Different from what he wears all the time?“ 

“It’s more fancy,” Eggsy defends, “and he’s worked hard on it. He’s got gadgets and gizmos hidden on him, like a trick watch and a blade in his shoe—”

Michelle cuts him off. “All right, all right,” she says, with a slight roll of her eyes, “don’t go on so much about him.”

Eggsy flushes, and Harry once again admires how lovely he looks with reddening cheeks, quickly looking away when he feels Michelle’s gaze zero in on him.

Daisy tugs on Eggsy’s arm. “Can we bring JB?” she pleads.

Eggsy bends down, briefly kissing her on the forehead. “Sorry, Daise, but JB doesn’t have a costume.” He then looks at the pug himself, wagging happily underneath the kitchen table, where a pumpkin basket filled with goodies sits. “I don’t want him to get lost in the crowds, and besides, dogs don’t belong in haunted houses.”

“You’re taking her to a haunted house?” Michelle asks, with a slight frown.

“A kid’s one, Mum,” Eggsy reassures. “Nothing really scary.”

“Well, be careful. I know you’ll keep an eye on her, but some of the kids up there can be a bit rough.”

“We’re just going to do some trick-or-treating here, then stop by Ryan’s. We’ll get back around eleven.”

“Ten,” Michelle corrects. “It’s school tomorrow, remember?”

“That’s right!” Eggsy snatches the cloth bags, stamped with Tesco labels, from the kitchen and holds up his palm in front of Daisy’s face. “You’re an educated girl, ain’t you?”

Daisy dutifully slaps her little hand against his in response, and both siblings laugh as their mother smiles. Harry watches, seeing Eggsy smile so easily with the sister who is beginning to forget the horrible first years of her life and the mother who pulled herself up after the downward spiral following her husband’s death.

He does not take too much pride in his role of bringing Eggsy to Kingsman, with the guilt at his careless neglect, still gnawing at his heart. It had been Eggsy who climbed the ranks and saved the world, not Harry. All he did was open a door.

And all Harry wants is for Eggsy to be happy in his new life.

* * *

Trick-or-treating turns out to be a repetitive, non-laborious activity, and Harry stands back as Eggsy leads Daisy up to porches that have lights that are either soft glows or strobes of different colors. The latter are the ones Harry stays far away from, even though the pills Medical gives him for his migraines are very strong. Everyone seems cheerful, cooing over Daisy and allowing her to take as much candy as she wants. Some mistake Eggsy for her young father, while others look at Harry and see him as a father indulging his children of very different age spans.

Harry wonders how much of the grey hair or crow’s feet they can see. Part of him should be grateful that no one sees the fond feelings he has for Eggsy as something romantic, but another feels slightly resentful. Eggsy tries to chat with him on the way to houses, but always turns his focus on Daisy, who, after a few packets of M&Ms, is rather talkative about her friends, her lessons, and her teachers, leaving Harry trailing awkwardly behind them more than half the time. Merlin would scoff at him for being jealous of a child, but it’s not quite it; Harry simply doesn’t believe his presence is necessary at all.

When Daisy and Eggsy’s bags are bulging with candy—Harry had refused one, the thought of all that sugar melting the enamel off his teeth—Eggsy hails a cab, which takes them to his old neighborhood.

Harry hasn’t set foot here since the horrible day of bringing Michelle news about her fallen husband, but it’s different than what he remembers. There’s loud, thumping music playing, along with drunken hoots and hollers from the many people hanging near the balcony in different arrays of costumes. Jack-o-lanterns are tilted precariously, along with streamers of purple and orange, while hanging skeletons and cobwebs are batted by curious passer-bys.

Harry notices Eggsy glancing at his old flat—not occupied by Dean, who’d, thanks to an anonymous tip, been convicted of drug trafficking and other unsavory activities—then moving right past to greet a young man standing by an open door. “Ryan!” Eggsy shouts.

“Eggsy!” Ryan grins, slapping him between the shoulder blades. “Mate, how are you?”

“Doin’ good,” Eggsy says, keeping a firm grip on Daisy’s hand. “You?”

“About to replace the ‘eyeballs,’” Ryan replies, air quotes included. He looks down, grinning at Daisy, who shyly waves at him. “Oh, Eggsy, you big f—you _dork_. Decided to have a theme?”

Eggsy briefly flexes his muscles, patting his holster twice. “Couldn’t pass it up. And Daisy looks right cute, don’t she?”

“Oh, yes,” Ryan agrees. “Daisy, that deserves some Jaffa Cakes.” He then passes her a package with violently neon-orange cakes inside, Daisy staring wide-eyed at them. “Did you and Jamal coordinate? He came here as Finn—flirting with the bird dressed as that dragon queen in _Game of Thrones_ over there.”

“Nah, we didn’t, but good for him.” Eggsy then nods towards Harry, who’s trying to not get bumped into by an exuberant young couple dancing to one of the beats blasting out of an open flat. “And this is Harry, by the way.”

“ _The_ Harry?” Ryan asks, then grins, holding out his hand. “Eggsy’s told me a lot about you.”

Bemused, Harry takes it, as Eggsy quickly says, “So, Ryan, which entrance is the kiddie haunted house?”

“The one with the jack-o-lantern. The skeleton is for the rest.” Ryan gestures, revealing the left side of a passage, separated by its neighbor on the right by a thin strip of cardboard. Paper cutouts of a pumpkin with a grinning face and a bored-looking skeleton dangle from the doorway.  “Have fun, then.”

Haunted houses, Harry knows, are boring. A big part of the thrill is to be surprised at something leaping out at them from the shadows, but as a trained spy, the threat is quite dampened—not to mention that his first instinct when someone comes up behind him and grabs him is to incapacitate immediately. He’s just running over a reminder to himself to keep his limbs under control when Daisy complains, “But I don’t want to go in the kid house!”

“I don’t think you’ll like the other one, Daise,” Eggsy coaxes, but his sister pouts, shaking her head and pointing to the skeleton entrance.

“I won’t be scared!” she insists, then turns her big, blue eyes onto Harry. “Please! Eggsy will listen to you!”

Harry freezes, unsure of which Unwin to pick: the one who’s frowning at him with half his bare chest showing or the small, pleading child with an expertly trembling lip. The tidbit of Eggsy’s trust in him makes his heart skip a beat, but also be ridiculously uncertain of choosing wrong and ruining their night.

“Well…” he thinks for a minute before suggesting, “Perhaps one of us can go into the haunted house and screen it for Daisy?”

Eggsy nods. “That’s not a bad idea. You can watch Daisy, and I can go in.”

Watch Eggsy’s sister? Harry clears his throat. “Eggsy,” he begins, “I’ve never—“

“Daisy’ll be a good girl for you—won’t you?”

Daisy nods solemnly.

“Eggsy, I’ve never watched—”

But Eggsy’s gone.

Harry suppresses a curse forming in his throat, then quickly fixes his eyes on Daisy, who’s rifling through her bag of candy. Her little hand holds up a gumball, then a tiny chocolate bar, then wrapped caramel apple, and Harry’s mind jumps to the rumors everyone knows: choking, poison, razors. Most of those stories he’s heard around Halloween have to be urban legends, but as Daisy begins to pull the plastic away from the sticky treat, his hand snatches it out of hers before she can gasp.

“You can’t take my candy!” she protests, drawing several eyes towards them.

“I’m not taking your candy,” Harry says, even though he technically just did. “But why don’t you eat this at home after we cut it up—”

“No!” Daisy stomps her foot. “Give it back!”

“Hey,” someone says, and both Harry and Daisy turn to see a man around Eggsy’s age, dressed in all black. Something about his features is off, and as Harry narrows his eyes in suspicion, the man smiles, leaning down so he’s fact-to-face with Daisy. “Cheer up.”

He then reaches up to touch his face—then just as his fingers come away, so does his skin, ripping away with thick globules of syrupy blood, revealing a skull mask underneath.

Daisy screams, clutching onto Harry, and begins to wail.

Harry draws himself to his full height, takes Daisy’s hand, and gives the man a fierce glare that he normally reserves for interrogation. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he demands.

“Chill out, old man,” the youth says, laughing nervously. He’s already beginning to back up, hands raised placatingly. “It’s Halloween.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to frighten a _child_.” Harry steps forward, slow and dramatic. “Do you know what _manners maketh_ man means?”

“Look, it was just a—”

“Apparently, you don’t,” Harry continues. “And here’s what you can do: you can apologize and be on your way, or I can take this apple—” he raises his right hand, fingers still closed around the treat he’d taken from Daisy. “And I can cram it down your gullet.”

The man gulps, looking back and forth for help, but everyone either isn’t paying attention or watching in avid interest. “I…” he begins. “I…all right. I’m sorry.”

Harry nods towards Daisy. “Not to me. To her.”

Daisy stares up at the man, face a bit red and eyes still wet, but she juts up her chin, looking at him challengingly.

“I’m sorry,” the man repeats, then glances up at Harry fearfully. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Harry replies, then dismissively goes, “Off you get, now.”

Terrified, the stranger turns and practically flees, pushing some startled teenagers out of the way. Daisy giggles, fear forgotten, and Harry’s just congratulating himself on a job well done when he hears his name.

Harry turns to look at Eggsy, hands on his hips. “Jesus, Harry,” Eggsy says. “You didn’t have to make that guy piss himself.”

Harry tries not to blush. “Well. He was rude.”

“You…” Eggsy begins, then quickly stands on his toes and kisses him. 

Oh. Oh. 

Absurdly, for a brief second, he thinks this is a simple thank-you, but as Eggsy’s tongue slides past Harry’s lips, he immediately dismisses that foolish thought, instead taking advantage of their proximity to bring his arms around Eggsy. This is everything Harry’s wanted, everything he’s thought of, everything—

A burst of hooting and clapping breaks the spell, and when Eggsy pulls away, Harry can see Ryan leading the amused crowd in the cheering and Daisy sticking out her tongue, clearly disgusted at having to see people kiss.

“Um…” Eggsy says. “Wow. Uh, did not plan on that, but…I don’t regret it, either.” He glances down at his feet, smiling. “Listen, Harry, after this, do you want to get a pint?”

“Yes,” Harry says immediately. “Yes. Eggsy, I—“

“Can we go into the haunted house?” Daisy interrupts, tapping her foot impatiently.

Eggsy laughs, taking her by the hand, then reaches out to do the same with Harry. “Oh course. Shall we?”

“We shall,” Harry declares, and they all walk in together.


End file.
